


put your lips close to mine, as long as they don't touch.

by currahees



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, a bit of angst but there's a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:18:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22440157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/currahees/pseuds/currahees
Summary: five times ian and mickey wanted to kiss + one time they did.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 1
Kudos: 149





	put your lips close to mine, as long as they don't touch.

**Author's Note:**

> i cannot BELIEVE that these dumbasses are MARRIED. i'm so happy, if you need me i'll be crying over this for the next fourteen days.

**one.**

Mickey can’t believe what he’s just done. He’s not gay, he doesn’t like guys. He likes girls. He likes beating people up, beer and the safety of liking girls. _He can’t like guys._ But there’s a guy in his bed, both of them frozen in fear and waiting for Terry to come back and beat them up.

“What the fuck,” Ian breathes out, watching the door in case it opened again.

Ian’s words are nothing but mumbles to Mickey. He feels like he’s on fire, everything inside of him is alight and he doesn’t want this feeling to leave. Ian’s thigh is slightly touching his under the covers and neither of them makes any attempt to move away. But Mickey can’t let himself be here in this situation.

Standing up and pulling his boxers on, he throws Ian’s boxers and jeans on the bed.

“Get dressed, fuck off,” he murmurs, not looking back at him.

Thankfully, Ian doesn’t hesitate. He’s pulling his clothes on, both of them still wary of the door. Ian moves past Mickey to grab his shirt, their bare shoulders touching briefly. And there’s that feeling again, Mickey’s breathless and he wants to grab Ian and pull him closer. He wants to run his fingers through his hair, holding his body against his. But he doesn’t. He can’t.

Ian must have felt it too, he takes half a step closer to Mickey. He knew what he was doing before he could step any closer.

“Kiss me and I’ll rip your fuckin’ tongue out,” Mickey spits, turning so his back was to Ian again. He swears that he sees Ian smirking to himself, but he tells himself that his mind was playing tricks on him. God, he wishes he could kiss him though.

**two.**

Mickey isn’t sure why Ian’s roaming through his house like a lost puppy. Then he hears Mandy say something and any hope he had of Ian being there for him were dashed. Of course he wasn’t there for him, Ian made his feelings pretty fucking clear the last time they saw each other. Still, Mickey moved quietly to open his door in a last-ditch attempt that maybe Ian would at least say hi to him. God, that’s how desperate he’d become.

A few minutes later and he hears footsteps that stop just outside his door. Turning around, he feels his heart in his throat when he sees Ian stood there. He already has a smart remark ready to fire at the redhead, eager to see his reaction, but Ian speaks before he can. Mickey isn’t sure what is said, the only words he picks up on are “enlisting” and “tomorrow”, both hitting him like a punch to the gut.

Ian stands in the doorway, waiting for a response. Usually, Mickey can read his face pretty well and can guess at what he’s thinking. This time is different, Ian is closed off and hiding his emotions. Mickey wants nothing more than to cross the room, grab Ian’s face and push him against the wall in an attempt to communicate everything he wants to say. He doesn’t, he knows he can’t.

He’s frozen to his spot, his feet not allowing him to move. There are a thousand words he wants to say, but all he manages is a weak, desperate, “Don’t.”

Ian looks at him once over and a small part of Mickey wants Ian to do what he doesn’t have the balls to. He wants him to walk the four feet distance and kiss him, providing Mickey with some comfort that this wasn’t the end.

Ian doesn’t. Ian leaves Mickey sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands and a mouthful of things he wished he said.

**three.**

Ian’s meds have been off for a while now. After the whirlwind of his disappearance, the diagnosis and now the imbalance of the medication, Mickey and Ian are both tired. Ian wishes he could feel something and Mickey wishes he could do something to help.

When Ian suggests (or rather, insists) for Mickey to follow him somewhere he can’t help but go with him. For the first time in days, Ian is up and there’s a small shred of emotion in his eyes. But when Ian throws the first punch, Mickey can’t help but delay in reaction. He’s usually the punch first, ask questions later kind of guy, but not with Ian. Ian was crying, desperately muttering something about wanting to feel something under his breath.

Mickey finally grabs Ian by his collar, pushing him up against the wire wall behind them. There’s blood across both their faces and he can’t place who it belongs to, but at the moment he doesn’t really care. Ian’s got that look in his eyes, the one Mickey knows all too well. Their faces are inches apart and it would take one small movement for their lips to be touching. Mickey waits.

He waits for Ian to make the first move, for Ian to close the gap. Ian doesn’t, instead he leans his forehead against Mickey’s. Their noses are lightly touching and Mickey can feel every breath that Ian is taking. Somehow, this feels more intimate than kissing. There are goosebumps across his skin and Mickey can see all of Ian’s freckles dusting his face.

Finally, Ian cracks a smile. It’s small at first and hardly noticeable until it’s stretched across his face. He’s actually smiling, fully grinning for the first time in weeks. Mickey feels himself smiling back, closing his eyes as he lets himself fall into this moment.

**four.**

They haven’t seen each other in over a year. Mickey was worried he wouldn’t recognise Ian before remembering he’s been the only thing he’s been picturing for the past twelve months. Ian was the first thing Mickey saw in his mind when he woke up and the last thing he dreamed off before drifting off to sleep. He’d recognise the love of his life anywhere.

When Ian luges towards him, Mickey’s defences are up again. They’re pushing against each other, trying to desperately communicate with their bodies what their words won’t allow. All he can think is how much he missed this. Feeling Ian’s body against his, the familiar scent flooding his nose and the way his hair looked the exact same as before.

Once their words of anger are exchanged, Mickey allows himself to be vulnerable, if only for a second.

“You’re under my skin, man. The fuck can I do?”

That’s all it takes for Ian to completely melt. Mickey sees the change in his demeanour, he almost sinks in relief. He takes this as a sign to move a little closer. Pressing his nose against Ian’s softly, Mickey relishes in the familiarity of it all. Ian’s mouth was so close, _so, so close._ But he knew if he kissed him now he’d throw everything away. Mexico would be off the table, he’d willingly hand himself back in if Ian asked him to. He would give his life over in a heartbeat just to kiss him again and he couldn’t do that. Not now at least. He needed to wait, just a little bit longer. Although he was convinced the wait would kill him.

**five.**

The last hour of the drive was quiet. Ian hadn’t said two words to Mickey and despite his constant self-reassurance, Mickey knew something was wrong. He knew Ian better than he knew himself and although Ian would argue that til he was out of breath, Mickey could predict his every move.

He wishes he was surprised when Ian stops just short of the car. And he wishes he didn’t hear Ian mumbles those words, apologising for not being able to follow Mickey across the border. He wishes he didn’t have to see the look in Ian’s eyes, the way he looks at Mickey before adverting his gaze to the floor. He can’t blame Ian though. If he had a family that actually cared about him, he’d probably find this a little difficult too.

Sighing, he closes the gap between them. Gently taking Ian’s head into his hands, he leans his forehead against his and breathes him in for a minute. He doesn’t know the next time he’ll see Ian, or if he’ll ever see him again for that matter. Opening his eyes, he tries to memorise every inch of his face. The scar above his left eyebrow, the way his lips curved up slightly, the exact pattern of the freckles across his cheeks. He knows it’ll never be enough, but he tries to remember this.

**plus one.**

It had been an actual nightmare to get to this. Burned down venues, murder attempts, being handcuffed to a chair for God’s sake. Mickey thinks that if he takes his eyes off Ian that’ll everything will disappear. The chairs he spent hours picking out, the flowers they agreed on together, it’ll all vanish without a trace. So he keeps himself grounded by focusing on Ian, his soon to be _husband_ who was looking at him like he had hung all the stars in the sky.

The vows are all but a blur to him, aside from Ian calling him “Mickey” during the vows, instead of his given name. The way he said it made Mickey feel like he was a teenager again, there was a hidden humour behind Ian’s voice that he knew was meant just for him.

Then he hears it.

“I now pronounce you husband and husband.”

Ian turns his head and Mickey hears him ask “Now?”

There’s a second pause as he waits for the answer and Mickey can’t wait that long. He’s smiling so much he thinks his face is going to be frozen this way, but he doesn’t give a damn. He leans forward a little, but Ian’s already grabbing him and pulling him close.

He feels Ian smiling against him, their lips finding their familiar places on each others. Unlike so many of their kisses, this wasn’t about dominance or seeing who would pull away last. Mickey felt the affection Ian was pouring into this, their first kiss as husbands, the kiss that would eventually lead into the rest of their lives. All he can do is kiss back, grateful that he gets to do this for the rest of his life.


End file.
